WeissKreuz Wayward
by LoveyouHateyou
Summary: Schuldig in a silly mood... doing the laundry? Nagi teasing, Farfarello dreaming, and Crawford cranky. What does Yohji have to do with it? And Aya? Ah, and Omi, too...


**WeissKreuz – Wayward**

Okay, after the break, I fancied something lighter than my usual dark-and-gloomy fare. Here, Schwarz and Weiss have found some sort of understanding, even though this is not necessarily universal, and they are all in somewhat of a silly mood...

Have fun.  
LH

**xxx**

**Disclaimer:** This story is not for profit, all rights with their current owners.  
**Warnings:** The Schwarz men are foulmouthed, even Crawly. The chibis are no cuties. Nagi is bothered by Spring. Far has an affinity for red...  
**Rating:** **M** for male/male affection and references to sex. Don't look for graphic instructions though - you will be disappointed.  
**Pairs **(I would not call them couples) :vague Aya/Yohji (destiny interrupted... as usual), references to Omi talking ! to Nags, Crawford/Schuldig (Schuldig has a thing for Yohji though – Aya is not the only one with a taste for sweet things. Yohji is this fanboy's fav man, too.)

**Disclaimer, warnings and rating valid for all chapters of this story.**

**xxx**

"Choo-choo, lalala, chooo-"

Nagi groaned and pressed his small fists against his ears. "Will you the HELL stop this," he said, in his flattest, coldest, most despising tone.

"Choooooo," Schuldig sang out, laughing, freckles dancing on his long nose as he swayed past the boy who was sitting crosslegged at the kitchen table, his laptop open, flicking from the open email window to a game every time the firehead buzzed past on his way to the laundry drier.

"Ass-hole," Nagi pronounced, "A, S, S, H..."

"Okay, okay, Naggles, lala, choo-tadah..." Schuldig wore nothing save a pair of extremely tightfitting, bleach-blue jeans, with a few strategically placed slashes at the backs of his knees, across his skinny thighs, and one very close to the join of his right thigh to his crotch. The waistband button gaped open, the zip of his fly was halfway down, and it was more than obvious that he had not bothered to wear anything beneath the low-riding pants. The jeans were longer than his legs, and their frayed hems dragged on the floor about his bare white feet. His hair flapped freshly washed and wet about his neck and shoulders, and he had been singing along all the time it took him to do the laundry. All of it except for Brad's stuff – Crawford preferred to entrust his suits and shirts to a rather expensive dry cleaning and professional laundry service.

"Can't you just SHUT UP?" Nagi snapped, patience on the wane. "I am trying to concentrate here."

"Yay, on our next mission brief perchance?" Schuldig teased, mumbling around a clothes peg between his teeth as he pinned one of Farfarello's grey tees on the drying rack.

"Yes," Nagi replied without missing a beat.

"And why, pray tell," Schuldig turned and winked, "are those messages you keep re-reading all signed off Bom-"

"Shut it," Nagi seethed, rising from his seat.

"Hey, hey, I won't tell Braddy Daddy. He probably knows already anyway," Schuldig laughed, groping in his backpocket for cigarettes and lighter. "So what, does blond sweetie still love our pretty little Nags?"

"One day I am going to KILL you. K, I, L..."

"Yeah, sure."

"Or your fucktoy," Nagi added in a nasty tone.

"Uh?" Schuldig shot him a wary glare. "There'sa house rule for that, Nags. It's called 'Do Not Play With Schuldig's Toys'. Breaking them usually results in broken bits... well, bobs... argh..."

"What are you high on?" Crawford, looking tidy in a light grey sweater and black slacks, hair kempt but not slicked back, glasses on the tip of his nose and an open broadsheet in his hands, he stepped into the kitchen and marched to the coffee maker.

Schuldig stared at Crawford's backside. "You... uh..."

"Stop yapping like a fish on land," Crawford ordered, pouring a mug of coffee.

"Brad... are you ill?" Schuldig enquired nervously.

Crawford spread his paper onto the kitchen counter and carried on reading, mug in hand. "Why?"

"Well, for once, you're not wearing a suit," Schuldig chanced.

"Day off," Crawford remarked over his shoulder.

"But... you didn't tell me," Schuldig complained edgily, "and now I've got other plans and no time and..."

"I have to work."

"You said 'Day Off'," Nagi cut in, ogling Crawford over his computer screen, "can't you take him out of here? Please? Walk him in the park or something?"

"Leash," a soft voice cut in from the door, and Farfarello edged his way into the room. In a sleeveless black top, black jeans and boots, he looked ghostly pale and his smile incongruously sweet on his scarred face.

"Far," Schuldig groused, "don't get involved."

"In what?" Crawford asked, taking a long draught of coffee and shaking his paper out after turning a leaf.

"This mess, of course," Schuldig said, shuffling his feet to disperse a bit of cigarette ash that had dropped onto the clean white floor. Crawford hated dirt.

"That mess, like ash on the floor?" Nagi deadpanned. "Crawford-sama-"

Schuldig rolled his eyes and mouthed 'asslicker', but Nagi merely grinned and continued, "Crawford-sama might take you for a stroll in the park if you are really good, like G, O, O, D, and perhaps you might get to see the choo-choo train..."

"You shittylil' creep," Schuldig burst out, pointing the cigarette accusingly at Nagi.

Who glared flatly at him. "Or did you have an appointment?"

Schuldig flushed pink, then drained paler than his usual colour. "No. And stop spelling every fuckin' word. It's stupid, they do that in nursery class."

"Funny you should know that," Nagi hurled back with deadly precision.

Crawford, of course, had noticed the tiny fraction of a delay in Schuldig's retort, and turned to gesture athim with the half-empty mug. "Maybe Nagi is right.Perhaps some fresh air would do me good, and you... you must be bored witless to do the washing."

A bored firehead was a combustible firehead. Bad for the team. Bad for himself.

Schuldig writhed in discomfort. "Nah, is alright, I'll just finish this-"

"Finished," Farfarello said mildly, holding up one single dark sock and a clothes peg. The sock having been the last item in the basket near the washing machine under the counter. He tossed the sock, Schuldig caught and pegged it on the rack rather jerkily, wrapping himself in swathes of blue smoke.

Crawford peered over his glasses, brown eyes cool and unreadable. "This isn't one of my socks."

"Mine neither," Nagi seconded, "it doesn't belong to any of us."

Schuldig fidgeted with his cigarette and shot Nagi a murderous glare. Nagi ignored him.

Crawford pursed his lips around another sip of coffee. "Well?" he prompted then, stillscrutinising Schuldig. "Or were you after some... other entertainment?"

Schuldig kicked the rack, which threatened to collapse so that he had to catch and straighten it out. He looked a bit rattled. "Uhm... I got a stomach bug," he said lamely, rubbing his belly for emphasis.

Crawford looked out of the kitchen window. "Sun's shining."

"I feel sick."

"There's medicine for that in the first aid kit," Nagi suggested, "this bitter stuff... what is it? Charcoal? Makes your dumps go black."

Crossly, Schuldig shook his head. "I'll get better soon... just some bed-rest, a good read..."

Helping himself to coffee, Farfarello laughed, his amber eye sparkling with mirth. Nagi bit his lip, hit ENTER by accident and swore under his breath. Crawford tried to hide a smile by pressing his lips together in a stern white line.

Schuldig huffed. "What?"

"You can have some of my mangas," Nagi mumbled, clicking the mouse a few times, colour beginning to bloom high on his cheeks.

"I am NOT into girls," Schuldig grouched, lighting a fresh cigarette on the glowing butt of the finished one. "At least not right now. And you shouldn't even have that kinda stuff, yanno, you're not old enough."

"What, I can do THIS job but not have porn?" Nagi looked angry and flushed all over now.

"Choo, choo, pretty you," Farfarello cooed gently, cradling his mug in both hands, his single eye misty as he glanced over to Schuldig... who stared at Nagi's screen, ears reddening until they glowed bright crimson. He seemed to have trouble breathing.

Crawford drank the dredges of his coffee and set the mug into the sink. He ran some water over it, then carefully rinsed and dried the mug before placing it back into the cupboard. "Sun is still shining, Schuldig."

"He's coming on to you," Nagi interpreted snidely, barely above his breath, along with an obscene gesture, hidden from Crawford's eyes by the table. "Go fetch, doggie..."

Schuldig drew a wheezing breath. "You! I'm gonna chop your damnably premature dick off!"

"Hot-dog," Nagi prodded, his smile widening, to bare small, perfect white teeth even as his eyes narrowed – a wolfish expression ill matching his soft features.

"Freak," Schuldig gasped, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and sucking at his cigarette as if his life depended on it, his gaze still riveted on Nagi's screen.

Crawford checked his watch. "I am going now. Far, get presentable. A jumper at least. And DO wash this red streak out of you hair. Hurry. Nagi, tell Bombay to stop sending filthy mails; the computer is team equipment. Schuldig, I know exactly who you were going to see at that damn park because his maniac of a boyfriend telephoned to hurl threats at me. I want you to cut it – I am not prepared to put up with Abyssinian's abuse for the sake of some blond fancy of yours. Now, get your ass over here, put on some decent clothes, don't forget shoes, and come the fuck along, I need some privacy for what I have to tell you."

"Yes," Nagi commented, which on this occasion earned him a rather dirty look from Crawford. Nagi countered with a smile he knew looked disarmingly innocent, and Crawford's scowl faded into a small smirk.

"Tell, tell, tell," Farfarello sang and hummed as he went to his room to rinse the red dye out of his short pale hair, and fetch not the requested jumper but a saggy blue tee and a washed-out, well-worn denim jacket with plenty of pockets for his blades.

"Choo," Nagi smirked, and on his way across the kitchen Schuldig kicked Nagi's chair so that he almost fell over.

"Idiot," Nagi yelled after him even as a rather compromising picture of two scantily clad manga-girls popped up to fill the screen. Schuldig just laughed and waved him off as he went to get dressed

"What was all this about?" Crawford asked, frowning at the boy as he folded his newspaper into a tight roll.

"Schuldig was singing," Nagi shrugged, hastily closing the picture. "He went on my nerves, you know how infantile he can get. Plus, it's spring, hormones are hopping about..." He shivered and shifted uncomfortably on his seat as he tried to discreetly grind his backside against the cushion.

"Hm?" Crawford pondered, folding his arms and tapping the paper against his elbow. "Hopping hormones, I see." He gave Nagi an appraising all-over. "Behave yourself. I have enough of teenage antics with Schuldig."

"Yes, Crawford-san."

"And do not try to wind ME up."

"No."

"No, no, never ever, do the lot, do it not," Farfarello intoned sweetly, his ghostly face peering through the half-open door. "Back and forth, south and north, everywhere, I saw I swear, people screwing, cows were mooing..."

"MOONING," Schuldig corrected, nudging him aside, "you meant mooning, mooning cows, yeah-" He paused, eyes glazing over as for a hearbeat, he tried to imagine just that, before he snapped himself out of his odd reverie. "And you saw friggin' nothing; man, Brad, they're drivin' me bonkers, can't a man be in a good mood without some brat spoiling it all? You wanted to screw?"

Crawford bit his lip before looking at the redhead who bore a fairly desperate expression by now. "I did not say that."

Nagi'sfeatures were carefully blank. Farfarello moulded up against Schuldig's back and ran his white fingers through the drying copper strands. "Pretty," he murmured against Schuldig's neck.

The telephone on the kitchen counter shrilled. Schuldig made a dash for it; Crawford was faster and calmly glared at the panting redhead before him as he lifted the receiver to his ear. "Schwarz," Crawford said flatly. And immediately held the receiver at arm's length to escape the outburst from the other end.

"Hey, Oracle," a dark, cold voice barked from the phone, "don't you fucking dare hang up on me, or I'll gut you..."

Schuldig groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Some people just never learn," Nagi sighed sagely.

"Uncivilised," Farfarello hummed, kissing the top of Schuldig's ear. Schuldig tried to swat him off.

"Crude," Farfarello murmured, moulding gently against the redhead's bony back. "Uncouth, vulgar-" He sighed, his eye sliding shut in rapture, a mere glint of amber from beneath white lashes, catlike and strangely sensual. "Ah, so very, very pretty..."

Schuldig grunted, rubbing his eyes and frantically grappling to keep hold of a thread of reality...

"Abyssinian, you're an ass," Crawford said wisely into the phone when the torrent turned into a trickle. "Tell your loverboy his date's not going to show up today because he is going to be too busy, and tomorrow he won't have time because he won't be able to walk, and the week after that, his ass will be on fire badly enough to preclude any screwing. Got that? Good. Hm?"

He listened, then shook his head. "No, otherwise we are fine. I told Prodigy to stop it. Yes, I assure you. How would I know where Balinese's gone?" And with a thin smile, "I thought you knew... what? Well, this new girl he was planning to see... down at the club in the docks. Yes, that one. Pardon? No, not at all. You too, thank you. Good bye."

He hung up and gave Schuldig a searing glare. "Now, where were we... how often have you been seeing that blondidiot recently?" And then, quickly, "I thought I did not need to tell you how dangerous this is for the entire team."

Schuldig almost swallowed the cigarette end.

Nagi quickly deleted a few mails and turned off thejingle that would announce new mail.

Farfarello slid his arm around Schuldig's throat, the sleeve of his baggytee sliding back as he began to tighten his hold by sneaking degrees. Schuldig's hands darted up and clamped around the white arm to pull it away. "Ack, Far, get off me... now, I haven't... Far! I'm gonna hurt you if you don't let off!"

"I'd say," Crawford cut in softly and took off his glasses, "you keep him just so, Farfarello. Don't you like the feeling of him? Though he's gone too skinny for my liking... why would that be?"

Farfarello smiled, and Schuldig grew very still, blue eyes blazing angrily at Crawford. "Bonking," Farfarello clucked gently, stroking the redhead's ribs with his free hand.

A slow blink. "Just as I thought," Crawford mused, sliding the glasses into a case of black laquer, and the case into the back pocket of his slacks. "Is he that demanding, hm? Your blond screwtoy?"

"I do NOT screw him, dammit," Schuldig spat, tugging at Farfarello's arm again, "but hell knows I wish I were 'cos I'm fucking fed up with anally retentive American bastards, Irish knifehuggers and teenage mutant ninjas!" He kicked back and Farfarello winced as Schuldig's bare heel hit his shin.

"Chooo," he whispered, lips stirring a few tendrils of red at Schuldig's temple. "Hurt."

"Argh, I'm sorry, Far – will you just let go of me, please, please, please, 'fore Brad gets silly ideas and someone gets REALLY hurt?" Schuldig hissed.

"Nagi," Crawford said, without taking his eyes off Schuldig, "turn off the damn machine and get out of here. Take Far for a walk. Far, stay with him and do NOT go off alone."

Nagi gave them an owl-eyed glare that eventually landed in Schuldig's crotch. Whereupon he turned green andhurried to follow Crawford's order. He hit the off button and slammed the laptop shut before the machine had closed down completely, and then he rather forcefullydragged Farfarello along as he fairly fled the room.

Schuldig sagged against the doorjamb and rubbed his throat, pale blue eyes gleaming murder at Crawford. "Brad, you asshole! You know how edgy he gets when you provoke him like that!"

Crawford folded his arms and nailed him with a cold glare. "Which of the two? And you," with a few long steps, he closed the distance between them and stared down at Schuldig, "haven't you learned anything yet? What happens when you provoke ME?"

Shivering as he felt Crawford's energetic warmth wash over him, Schuldig closed his eyes for a moment, before snapping them open again and curling his lips in a small sneer. "You screw me into the mattress."

"Wrong. I leave you high and dry." Crawford unfolded his arms and shoved Schuldig aside by his shoulders, to stride past him down the hallway to his own room.

Schuldig stared after him. "You're not being serious."

"I am." Crawford's broad back vanished behind the door to his bedroom.

Schuldig's hand drifted to his middle and rubbed thoughtfully.

The door opened once more, and Crawford leaned into the hallway. "I expect dinner to be ready in-" he checked his watch and frowned slightly "-two hours precisely. We will have to work tonight. And NO takeaway or pizza service; I want proper food. Go on, don't dally."

The door slammed shut.

"I hate you!" Schuldig yelled and banged the kitchen door closed.

No use arguing with Crawford when he was like that, and surely no point wasting time.Schuldig, never one to argue a lostcase,lit a cigarette and began to rummage noisily about the cupboards.He put a large pan with water on the stove, to cook noodles. Only when he leaned back against the counter to wait for the water to boil, did he pause his not-so-quiet tirade of expletives to think.

And realised...

A stone clacked against the glasspane. Schuldig went to open the window, unsurprised to hear a soft whistle, quickly followed by a commotion and a string of accusations and obscenities in a harsh, dark voice. Now and then interrupted by a softer, soothing, slightly wily one...

He caught a flash of crimson and a gleam of bleach blond; the rustling of leaves in the bushes below the window, twigs cracking beneath two stes of footfall - hasty, firm, struggling... Abyssinian dragging a wayward Balinese off.

"Brad, you sly bastard," Schuldig murmured, breathing a lungfulof smoke against the kitchen window while a slow smile spread over his freckled face.

For buried amid their bickering, Crawford had drawn from him the answer he had wanted to hear.

And Schuldig, thinking about it, found that waiting until tomorrow should be just bearable.

**xxx The End xxx**


End file.
